Page 7 of Devoted

Ten starts rubbing her arms. Whenever the topic of Freestone or Lace Underground comes up, it seems to stir what she calls her invisible army of ants. I take hold of her wrists to stop her. She stares down at my grasp on her wrists. Her breaths come in short, fast bursts and a pink blush covers herskin.

She lifts her face. "Let's fuck," she saysquietly.

"What?"

"Let's fuck rightnow."

I release my hold on her. "Ten," I start but she shakes her head not wanting to hear myexcuses.

"Never mind. Can't blame you." Her laugh is weedy and dry. "Who wants to fuck a human skeleton who is so on edge she can't stop scratching herskin?"

"Ten, that's not it." She pushes away my hand when I reach forher.

"When do I pack up? Wish I had some shorts and a bathing suit. Maybe we can swing by my place on theway."

"Ten, stop and listen for asecond."

She ignores me and walks to thecloset.

"Ten."

"Really, Maddox. I was only kidding about fucking. Just dropit."

I stomp over and slap the closet door out of her hand and shut. She looks up at me insurprise.

"Listen. There is one big hole in our plan. How do I get you out ofhere?"

"I could just make a run for it," shesuggests.

"Yep. That should earn you a locked door and by locked I mean from the outside. Different plan, other than the obvious. I'll go back to the precinct and see if Clark can pull some strings. But nopromises."

Ten reaches to hug me but backs off. It feels like a slap in theface.

"Ten," I try and restart the conversation about the earlier awkward moment but she cuts meoff.

"Hurry back to the precinct, would ya? I don't want to spend a moment longer in this room." She avoids eye contact with me as she speaks. It's clear it's bothering her as much as me, but I decide to drop it for now. She's not ready to tread in those waters yet. I'm sure as hell not readyeither.

For now, I need to focus on getting her out of rehab before she climbs the walls,literally.

5

Angie

"Well, what do you think?"Maddox asks frombehind.

I stare out at the unobstructed view of the Pacific Ocean. There are gray slate cliffs at one end of the cove and an outcropping of rocks on the other. It's a small curl of paradise. "I guess like they say—one man's hovel is another man's castle. Or in this case—woman's. A very grateful woman. Thank you so much for this, Maddox. I can even forgive you for taking a whole damn week to free me from thatplace."

"Anything for my partner." He pushes a strand of hair behind my ear, leaving me slightly breathless from the quickgesture.

I can feel the smile on my face, a sensation that has only just returned since my days in rehab. Withdrawals from Kane's drug seemed to make every nerve in my body ten times more sensitive. I felt every nurse's pinprick, every sharp stomach cramp, every throbbing ache in my temples, but the simple sensation of a smile on my face was numbed. Now that most of the hard stuff is over, the reverse is slowly happening. It helps take away the edge. I am more relaxed, but the frenzied nerves and hyper moods are being replaced by a deep, relentless melancholy. The depression that has taken hold brings me back to the terrible days following my dad's death. After his accident, I was alone in a black shroud of guilt. I could never bring myself to confess to my mom or brothers that my last words to Dad were 'I hate you'. They were dealing with their own grief, normal sadness and that sense of overwhelming loss. But I dealt with my own special form of despair, one that was stained by guilt. I never found my way out from under the weight of that remorse. I had no one to commiserate with, no one who'd experienced the same pain. There was no other awful person like me to sympathize with. My brothers hadn't ruthlessly yelled out 'I hate you, Dad' before he drove off to his death. Only I had that horrid privilege. I spent many of my rebellious and brooding teenage years dealing with all the shit that gets thrown at you in the teen's world. At the same time I was trying to figure out how I'd ever change what happened that day. I knew it was impossible but occasionally, I hoped that if I thought about it hard enough I'd somehow let my dad know how much I wanted to erase what I said. But there is no way to erase the past. It was a brutal reality I learned at fourteen and one I've learned again at twenty-five. And once again, it seems I'm dealing with something huge and dark and life changing and I have no one to commiserate with. Maddox has been by my side through all of it, but just like with my family, I can't talk to him about any of the deep stuff. Just like my family, Maddox is the last person I want to talk to about it. I've never felt so close and at the same time so distant from anyone asMaddox.

Silvana walks in through the sliding glass door, bringing with him the rich scent of the ocean. It's a refreshing mixture of salt and the special odor that only the ocean can produce. Considering my last nightmarish trip on salt water, it should give me pause. But I can't stop taking deep breaths. After being underground in a controlled environment, I was taken immediately to a stuffy hospital and from there to the rehab facility, more controlled environments. The latter two smelled of sterile implements, chemicals and sanitizing solution. Not exactly great for a homecoming. The real earth smelled muchbetter.

Silvana closes the glassdoor.

"Leave it open," I say. "I want every beach scent to permeate this littlehouse.

Silvana looks to Maddox for approval. I roll my eyes. He opens the door again. A breeze whips through the opening fluttering the fishing magazines on the coffee table. The house is tiny and decorated exactly how I'd expect. There are fishing tackle boxes piled up in one corner of the living room. The wall is covered with pictures of Uncle Nate holding up his prize catches. I stare closer at one picture and wipe away the dust collecting on the glass. "Uncle Nate has your smile." I turn toMaddox.

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